Higher Than A Crack Addict
by Sullen Kitty
Summary: Oneshot. Bobby and Alex go undercover at a society party to bust a major drug ring, but a rookie’s bravado totally blows their cover. Thankfully, Bobby has a distraction up his sleeve… and it involves a different kind of ring.


Title: Higher Than A Crack Addict

Title: Higher Than A Crack Addict

Summary: Bobby, Alex, and a couple other officers go undercover at a society party to bust a major drug ring, but a rookie's bravado totally blows their cover. Thankfully, Bobby has a distraction up his sleeve… and it involves a different kind of ring. Is this really a distraction, or does he mean it? GorenEames

Disclaimer: I don't own Alex or Bobby. Yet.

A/N: Definitely not one of the best fanfictions I've written, but I love the premise.

--

Detective Robert Goren of the NYPD knocked on his partner's apartment door. "Eames?" he called. "It's Goren! You about ready?"

"Yeah, I'll be out in a sec!" she called, muffled. "The door's unlocked, let yourself in."

Bobby stepped inside the small apartment and shut the door quietly behind him.

The apartment, while tiny, was very neat. Everything was in its proper place, as he'd remembered it from the last time he'd been over, except there seemed to be a profusion of clothes strewn about in a random frenzy. He sighed. It must be a girl thing.

Tonight they were going undercover as a wealthy couple to some society event with a few other officers. There was expected to be a huge drug trade-off there, and the department didn't intend to miss it for the world.

Bobby took a can of beer out of the refrigerator and cracked the top, draining half of it in one gulp. He grimaced. Eames liked the light stuff, and he couldn't stand it.

"Is there a reason you're poking around my fridge, Ocifer?" an amused voice said behind him.

Bobby turned around and was taken aback. There stood Alex Eames in a simple scoop, neck curve-hugging black dress. Her hair was twisted up in a messy bun, and she had a tube of lipstick in her hand. The hem of the dress brushed just above her knees, and her blue eyes stood out prominently because of the smoky makeup.

"I swear, I've committed no crime tonight," she said, still pretending to be an innocent citizen.

"You look amazing, Eames," he said honestly.

She looked surprised. "Thank you, Bobby. You don't look so shabby yourself," she added, walking over to a mirror and putting on her lipstick.

He pulled uncomfortably at his bow tie. "I hate tuxes. They're so constraining."

Alex smacked her lips together and stepped back to admire the effect of the dark red gloss. "Oh, I don't know. It kind of becomes you a bit, I think. Very debonair James Bond-ish," she said, turning to him and winking before going back into her room.

Bobby smiled, pleased she'd compared him to one of his favorite characters of all time, and laughing at himself, too, for falling for her blatant flattery.

She came back out with a strand of pearls and her shoes.

"Whoa, goin' all out here, I see," he observed, taking a shoe from her. "No flats?"

She snatched it back. "You can't wear flats with a dress like this, Bobby. And they're kitten heels, so I can still run in them if I have to."

"Strappy kitten heels, though," he said, admiring the way her feet slid into them. He got hit in the head with a book for his troubles.

"Shut up."

"Make me."

"Nah. Here, help me put on this necklace, wouldja?"

She already had it around her neck; she handed him the ends and turned around.

Bobby's hands fumbled with the clasp. The dress was very low-cut in the rear, all the way down to the small of her back. It wasn't distracting at all.

Neither was the scent of the perfume emanating off of her warm body…

Crap. Chanel No. 5. He was a sucker for women who wore Chanel No. 5. The last five of his flings he'd been with just because of the perfume.

He finally got the necklace clasped and released it, flexing his fingers. Alex turned around. "Thanks."

"No problem," he said, trying to clear his head. Christ. He'd always been attracted to Eames, but tonight, of all nights, he could not act upon it. Tonight the assignment deserved his full attention, with no distractions.

But it's not like he could ask Eames to ugly herself down, so he'd let it go.

Yeah, let it go. Riiiiiight. The chances were higher than a crack addict that he'd end up kissing her sometime tonight, and while it was tempting, he despised the odds.

"Bobby, are you all right?" he heard Alex ask. He jolted back to reality and realized he'd been grimacing.

He forced a smile and held up the beer can. "It's just the taste of this foul stuff. How do you drink it, Eames?"

She smirked. "I'm like Superman – Belly of Steel. I'd have thought the possessor of the famous Goren Intuition could handle such a simple concoction as that of light beer."

"Guess not." He shrugged, finished the can, and tossed it in the trash. "You ready to go?"

She wrapped a green silk shawl about her shoulders. "Yup. Hi-ho, hi-ho, it's off to nab some drug dealers we go!" she trilled as she left the apartment.

Bobby laughed and closed the door behind him.

--

They arrived at the party in style, pulling up in a rented jet-black hybrid. Very sleek, very nice. Bobby tipped the concierge a twenty and told him to park it as close to the building as humanly possible.

When they entered they immediately spotted the other undercover couples – a sculpted black man named Jerry Karl and his partner Jenn Panstucci - they knew them from other undercover operations - and the rookies, Alexander Michaels and his partner Kimberly Coles.

They trailed over to Jerry and Jenn, sipping their champagne flutes with practiced casualness.

"Jerry, so good to see you tonight!" Bobby exclaimed pompously, shaking hands with his friend at the same time Alex said, "Jenn, dear!" and air-kissed her on both cheeks.

"So why did the chief send the rookies out here tonight?" Bobby muttered to Jerry as Alex and Jenn listened in.

Jerry grunted. "Lord only knows. He must be an idiot – this is a high-pressure situation! The hell is the matter with him?"

"I think we'll have to speculate later, gents. Monsieur Placard is here," Alex said, looking as shallow as she possibly could, as though what she was saying was of no great import.

Jenn whistled. "My, my. He's a handsome fellow, ain't he?" she said, her Southern accent conspicuous. Jerry nudged her. "Woops, sorry," she said, converting her voice to a New York –accented type of thing.

Alex shrugged. "Eh, he's okay. I prefer a little more meat on a guy, though," she said, looking critically at the kingpin.

Monsieur Gregory Placard was French by birth, though he lived in Brazil. He kept a house out in the Hamptons and came to New York often. He liked to personally oversee his work.

He was tall and very slim, in his late thirties, early forties, very attractive by conventional standards, and had the look of someone who had never had to work very hard for their money. He was dressed in an impeccably tailored tuxedo, though in place of a bow tie he wore a red silk cravat.

Placard was the son of French oil tycoon Henry Placard and English actress mother Marisa Fairbanks-Rothschild. He'd been brought up in France and had inherited all his parents made when they'd died in a freak plane accident in the Caribbean.

Now he lived in Brazil, growing cocaine and distributing it to his trusted dealers in New York City, growing rich while misguided kids died. It made Alex's blood boil to think about it.

Someone laid their hands comfortingly on her shoulders. She looked to see who it was. Bobby, of course. "Calm down, Eames. We'll get him, don't worry."

She responded with a smile and put her hand over one of his, continuing to watch Placard. Her mind, however, was not with him at all.

It was behind her with Bobby. Bobby Goren, her partner for seven fruitful years, with whom her relationship had never risen above platonic. She wondered if he loved her.

Of course he did; he'd helped and protected her for years. She'd done the same for him. But she loved him more deeply than as a best friend or a brother. She loved him in spite of his strange tendencies – or perhaps it was because of them? She didn't know. What she did know was that she loved him.

She also knew that it the chances of him never loving her back were higher than a crack addict. _Too mundane,_ she thought wryly, watching Placard sit down at the bar. _I'm too boring for him. He needs someone to analyze and pick at. I'm simply Alex._

Behind her Bobby was thinking about how nice it was that he didn't have to analyze Eames. She was so simple, so _there_. That, he reflected, was probably why he loved her so much.

The only hint they had that the other was thinking of them was that they squeezed each other at the same time – Bobby's hand on Alex's shoulder, Alex's hand on Bobby's. They looked surprised, then ignored it and watched Placard with eagle-eyed efficiency.

All of a sudden, across the room, Alexander broke away from Kimberly, who was on her cell phone, and walked up to the bar.

"Holy motherfuckin' God," Jenn said, going pale and forgetting to cover her accent. "Is that rat bastard chattin' up Placard?"

Jerry elbowed her, but other than that ignored the slip. "Fucking idiot!" he moaned. "He's going to blow our cover! I knew he shouldn't have been assigned to this!"

All of a sudden Alexander slumped to the floor. Kimberly screamed; everyone turned to look at her.

"Placard gutted him; that damn rookie is dead," Bobby said. "Jerry, you and Jenn get Placard. Eames and I will distract everyone else." He whipped out his cell phone. "You call a medic; I have to use my cell phone for something else."

"Got it," Jerry said. He and Jenn began walking quickly over to the bar.

Bobby grabbed Alex's arm. "Come on," he hissed.

He raised his cell phone to his ear and walked out into the middle of the dance floor.

"I know, Kim!" he said in a loud, booming voice. "I'm happy too! But let's clue Alex in on our little surprise, shall we?"

Everyone immediately turned their heads to look at Bobby and Alex, ignoring the scuffle happening in the back of the room between Placard and Jenn and Jerry.

Kimberly looked stunned out of her mind and nodded, thankful she'd been covered. "Yeah, Alex! Wait 'til you see what your man's got for you!" she called.

Alex was bewildered. "The hell is going on, Bobby?" she hissed through gritted teeth.

Bobby didn't respond. Instead, he got down on one knee.

The crowd gasped; Kim leaned back against a table, breathing a huge sigh of relief.

Alex was confused as hell until Bobby drew a box out of his pocket. Then she finally caught up with the rest of the crowd. "Bobby –"

"Alex," he said solemnly, "I've loved you ever since we first met seven years ago, and every day since then I've tried to tell you, but I've never gotten up the courage until now." He looked her straight in the eye and opened up the tiny box. "Alexandra Nicole Eames, will you marry me?"

She clapped her hands to her mouth. "Yes," she whispered, holding out a slim hand to him. "Yes, I will absolutely marry you."

As soon as Bobby slid the ring on her finger the crowd broke its frozen spell and applauded and cheered.

She and Bobby hugged; she whispered in his ear, "They've got everything under control and Kim left; we can go now."

He nodded and, smiling, swept her off her feet and carried her out of the hotel, everyone clapping and cheering behind them.

He set her down when they rounded the corner of the building. "Which car did Jerry and Jenn take, do you know?"

She raised a set of keys. "Let's see which cars' lights go on when I press the little button." She pressed the UNLOCK button on the remote; their car and a black Chevy Tahoe's lights turned on. Inside the Tahoe, they saw, were several figures. They raced over to it.

Jerry leaned panting against the trunk "Nice of you two to join us," he said wryly.

Jenn appeared, looking totally disheveled. "Ya left the two bitches and the dirty work to us, ah see," she said grumpily. "Thanks fah coverin' fur us, though."

Bobby bowed slightly. "It was our pleasure." He jerked his thumb towards the car. "What's happening with the three of them?"

Jerry sighed. "Awright, listen up. Kimberley's comin' with us back to the station so she can do some explaining for her partner. We're dropping Alexander off at the hospital on our way – he's got a bad stomach wound, Placard knifed him, but we think he'll be okay. And Placard's shackled up in the trunk, gagged with his own neckerchief," he said, smugly satisfied with himself and his partner. "You 'n' Alex can go home if you want. We can wrap it up from here."

Alex smirked. "Thanks, you're a doll. Less work for us." She hugged Jenn. "You take care, okay?"

Jenn rolled her eyes. "Ah hope we only see each other in social sitchiations now, Alex. Less blood. Love ya too, though."

They climbed into the Tahoe and pulled away, waving as they left the parking lot.

Alex and Bobby walked slowly back to the Hybrid.

Alex's mind was churning. She'd love, absolutely _love_ to believe that Bobby had meant his proposal, but it was most likely simply a cover. He was known for his spectacular saves, after all. But then again, why had he been carrying around a diamond ring in his pocket? It could have been chance; he brought things of his mother's to the jewelers a lot.

But there had been something so full of – well, _conviction_, about the proposal, that Alex found it hard to believe it had been merely a cover story. There had, at the very least, been a deeper meaning behind it.

Christ, she was turning into Bobby. Next thing she knew she'd be analyzing her coffee in the morning.

She studied the ring. It was gorgeous and simple; a thin silver band with a medium-sized diamond in the middle. On each side of the diamond were two perfectly round, white pearls.

She held out her hand to him. "You might want to take it back before I get to attached to it," she said honestly. It was about the least-rude thing she could think of to say, either way.

Bobby started; had he not put enough feeling into his truly heartfelt soul-bearing? Or was she saying no? He decided to go for it. "Actually, I meant the proposal," he half-mumbled. He cleared his throat. "If you, ah, if you feel like saying yes, you can keep it." He rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously.

Alex's eyes grew round. "I knew it," she said quietly. "You actually meant that damn proposal, didn't you? You've been carrying this thing," she said, brandishing her hand, "around in your pocket, for how long?"

"About six months," Bobby admitted.

"Six months!" Alex was astounded. "And you decided, just randomly, What the hey, I'll propose to her as part of a cover?!"

"Actually, that was a spur-of-the-moment thing," Bobby started to say, but Alex cut him off.

"I would have said yes _anywhere_, you huge idiot! I love the crap out of you!" she exploded.

Bobby paused. "Wait – did you just accept my proposal?" he asked.

Alex thrust her ringed hand in his face. "Guess you're stuck with me now," she said. "We're en-fucking-gaged."

In an uncharacteristic burst of excitement, Bobby picked Alex off the ground and twirled her about. He laughed loudly. "I'm en-fucking-gaged to Alex Eames!" he shouted.

Alex kissed him, then gasped. "Holy crap. I'm gonna be Alex Goren."

Bobby pursed his lips as he set her down. "That sounds weird."

"So does Bobby Eames," she said. "How 'bout I keep my name and you keep your name, and we're just together?"

His hand enclosed hers protectively. "We've been together for the past seven years, Eames. I don't think married life is gonna be much different."

-Fin-


End file.
